Chương 111: Sleep Like Death, II

A winding path of alleyways, doubling back, squeezing through small cracks and holes in the walls on hands and feet followed. It was a small wonder that he was even allowed to see where he was going at all and hadn't been blindfolded. Then again considering the way his senses still had to adjust to the sheer amount of qi and qi signatures everywhere he went, it might have been for the best that he hadn't.

He'd heard that taking one sense away enhanced all others, and if that was so taking his sense of sight away then he might have felt qi even more intensely. That would've been a disaster, to put it mildly. He'd also thought that maybe he'd follow the same beggar to the Beggar's Court, but after walking down a few streets the man that he'd been following approached another beggar. Another martial artist, too. Not of the second-grade, but of the third-grade, the same grade as Wu Hao.

He was more interested in studying the store across from them, where a bunch of guards were milling around the entrance as if waiting for the person they were protecting to return from the inside. There were three of them that were second-grade martial artists, so he supposed that whoever it was they were guarding had to be someone important.

"Oi," the first beggar said, and kicked the one that he'd walked up to.

"Get up." The other beggar did, scrambling to his feet very quickly, and bowed.

"Yes, Cripple Xi, sir," he said, respectfully.

"How can this Fat Yu help you, sir?" Beggars, Wu Hao reflected, had very obvious nicknaming sense. Fat Yu was a thick-set man a few years older than Wu Hao, who had a face that was best euphemistically described as "honest". There didn't seem to be much thought going on behind his eyes as far as Wu Hao could see, and though he had qi it was both curiously muddy and somewhat empty of intricate patterns.

"Is this about the murders?" Fat Yu asked. His round eyes narrowed at Wu Hao.

"Is he the one?"

"The what?" Wu Hao asked. Cripple Xi - the first beggar - shook his head, then inclined it in Wu Hao's direction.

"He's made a request for aid. Move him to Longnose Bi's territory and pass on the message."

"But, sir - how will the elders know?" Cripple Xi swatted Fat Yu's head with his crutch. The other man's eyes watered from the apparent pain but he didn't cry out despite a very clear smack ringing out.

"Idiot," he hissed.

"They're the elders. They'll know."

"Oh," Fat Yu said.

"Sorry, sir."

"Now go," Cripple Xi said, and pointed at a direction with a single crutch. When his crutch came back down, he managed to pull the coin that Wu Hao had given him out of his clothes, gave it a polish with his shirt, and then he pushed it into Fat Yu's hands. Again, Fat Yu nodded respectfully.

"Yes, sir. Of course, sir. And my spot?"

"I'll take over," Cripple Xi said. He pushed Fat Yu out of the way and sat down. With a sweep of his arm he tapped the side of Fat Yu's begging bowl, then turned a baleful eye up to the younger man.

"And don't think of fishing for information again until you've proven yourself worthy of handling it." Fat Yu's lip trembled, but then he nodded again.

"Yes. I see. Thank you, sir. Sorry, sir." He went. Wu Hao followed, not really bothering to speak. His head was still buzzing with the headache of having sensed too much, but slowly he was growing used to it. Finally - after several more changes in guide, several more aside glances, and an uncountable amount of streets he'd walked through - they had arrived. The Beggar's Court itself was held in a massive tent, made by hanging a massive and thick piece of cloth across an intersection that looked abandoned entirely.

A group of mostly men sat there, with two women out of ten. Each of them visibly wizened and impoverished, but the sense of qi that hung clearly in their bodies made Wu Hao sure that he'd somehow reached some place he'd never figured he would. After all, these were all first-grade martial artists.

"Elders," the beggar that had had the final duty of escorting Wu Hao said. Shi the Nose-Picker, if Wu Hao recalled correctly, but he'd heard too many names and the like to try and remember him. A second-grade martial artist as well, despite the insulting nickname. He bowed.

"A supplicant has arrived, requesting aid."

"Send him in," an elder commanded. He was a man with a long, grey beard that swept across the floor as he gestured.

"Yes, Elder Gou." Wu Hao was pushed forward, until he stood at the open spot in the circle of old men and women. Several of them didn't seem to pay him any attention, instead drinking from bottles or arguing loudly with others about something or other. He couldn't listen in, though - there was a shimmer of qi in the air that prevented him from hearing the words clearly.

"Speak, boy," Elder Gou said, stamping his cigarette on the floor.

"What do you want?"

"Shelter," Wu Hao said.

"Food." Elder Guo nodded, seeming not to care about Wu Hao's tone. Others did, though - Wu Hao could feel their qi stir minutely, annoyed by the fact that he was addressing an elder impolitely.

"How much, how long?" Elder Guo asked.

"I -" Wu Hao said, and fell quiet.

"I don't know."

"Hrm," Elder Guo said. His eyebrows bunched together like two caterpillars huddling as he thought.

"Who'd you get the coin from?"

"Greasy Bao," Wu Hao said. Elder Guo hummed, then turned to one of the people next to him, in an active discussion with the man at his other side, and tapped him on the shoulder. Faster than Wu Hao's eyes could follow, there was a blurring movement before Elder Guo let out a quick cough and let go of the fist that he'd just caught. As if unbothered that he'd nearly gotten hit, Elder Guo asked, "Greasy Bao, he said. Isn't that one of yours?" The other elder turned, an annoyed look on his face.

His qi seemed agitated, already shot through with several threads of anger.

"What?" Elder Guo repeated his question, and the other elder waved a hand after a short moment of thinking about it.

"He is," the other elder said, and ripped his arm away from Elder Guo's hands.

"Don't do that again. Now, as I was saying -" The other elder returned to his argument, rolling up his sleeves and threatening to beat the person he was talking to like a dog.

"Why are you here?" Elder Guo asked. His qi spoke of a certain curiosity.

"To get stronger," Wu Hao said bluntly.

"Hmm," Elder Guo said again. He twisted his beard. More to himself, he muttered: "The Crane's Nest, perhaps." Wu Hao opened his mouth to ask what that meant, but before he could Elder Guo clapped his hands and spoke.

"Fine, I suppose. You lot!" The rest of the elders gave Elder Guo various glances, some annoyed but others assessing Wu Hao.

"What do we do with him?" Elder Guo asked.

"Who's he?" one Elder asked, louder than he had to. A dig at Wu Hao, judging from the portion of contempt raising itself out of his qi and pointing like an arrow to Wu Hao. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

"Test him," another of the elders said, sounding a little eager. Wu Hao found himself taking a dislike to her, though the hag only cackled when she noticed his accusing stare.

"How?" Wu Hao asked, but they ignored him again.

"Very well," another elder said.

"I agree." More voices chorused in agreement, but most simply kept quiet.

"Alright," Elder Gou said.

"Then we're agreed. Send him to the Master's chamber." Nosepicker Shi came forward and took Wu Hao by the arm, but not before wiping his fingers on his shirt.

"Come on," he said.

"Let's go see the Master." His tone was reverential, but Wu Hao just felt confused.

"The Master?" he asked.

"Master Ma," Nosepicker Shi said.

"One of the three heads of the Beggar's Union."

"Oh," Wu Hao said, following the man as he shimmied over a high fence.

"And - what's this test?"

"Just stand there," Nosepicker Shi said. He glanced back casually and then let himself drop down again.

"That'll be hard enough." Wu Hao's expectations continued to build as he came nearer. The only master he'd met had been Ke Jiaming. For all that he'd killed Wu Hao and betrayed his sect, he'd been an imposing presence who had killed everyone present with a few flicks of his finger and just from the pressure of his qi. If Master Ma was anything like him, then maybe this wasn't just a test. It could be a trap, too. Well, fine. All the better if it killed him.

He'd been curious about what being killed by a master-grade martial artist would give him.

"What's Master Ma like?" Wu Hao asked, trying to figure out what he might gain. Nosepicker Shi considered this.

"Master Ma," he said carefully, "is unique."

"What does that mean?" But Nosepicker Shi refused to answer or elaborate, and in the end Wu Hao decided to take the silence for what it was and shut up as well. The destination this time was a small garden courtyard, maybe ten minutes' walk from where the Beggars' Court had gathered. Nosepicker Shi pushed open the gate, bowing to someone inside and then motioning for Wu Hao to follow.

Wu Hao could have looked at the plants and the way that the garden seemed to actually have been tended recently, but that felt impossible with the man in the middle taking up all his attention. Master Ma was fat. That was impossible not to notice, and it wasn't meant in a mean sort of way: he was a mountain of a man, taller than average, and yet he was still half as wide as he was tall.

Fat bunched in rolls on his body, of which more parts of his skin were exposed to the open air than were not, and his two chins wobbled with the rare breaths he took. Also, he was ancient. Age spots ran across his face and formed patterns, and the little hair he had was a tangled white beard that had been folded across his belly. He was the oldest-looking man Wu Hao had ever seen and also the fattest. And he was sleeping. Snoring, even.

He didn't have any sort of cushion - in fact his head rested on nothing but bare stone, which didn't seem to bother him. Even so the sheer aura of power that radiated from him was awe-striking. A cloud of gray qi hung around the sleeping master the way heat radiated from a fire. It wasn't immediately deadly, and it wasn't threatening, either. None of Wu Hao's senses blared to tell him to get away. Nonetheless he felt that gray, colorless qi snap into place around him. What, then?

What was this feeling nestling deep in his chest? Suddenly, he let out a yawn so massive that he nearly felt his jaw crack. It hadn't felt natural, he wasn't tired enough to yawn yet since he was still using qi to keep himself awake and fully ready to strike at any moment. The headaches that had still been pulsing through Wu Hao's skull began to slowly fade. They weren't gone, but they felt more distant. Movement felt more difficult, like he was moving through thick, choppy water instead of simply air.

Wu Hao's eyes narrowed of themselves, but not in suspicion. It was just hard to keep them open at the moment - like he was having a sudden attack of drowsiness, like he was bone dead tired. Every ache and every bit of exhaustion that he'd felt across the last week was making itself known again, as if they'd been slumbering under the surface. His legs grew heavy. His arms finally arrived at his side, completing a movement he'd made just moments after first feeling the qi, although that had to be minutes ago now.

Time grew hazier, space seemed to shimmer and warp, and even the sense of qi that he prided himself on had been utterly dwarfed by the titanic qi that had suffused the entire space. Wu Hao tried to resist, but it felt impossible. With every strand of willpower that he could manage, he tried to keep himself awake and conscious, struggling against the effect of Master Ma's qi. His breaths were growing increasingly shallow as his body simply began to shut down as if he was falling asleep on his feet.

But if he fell asleep now, it might be permanent. He might never awake, and that was something that even reviving from death wouldn't save him from. Would he be stuck? A flash of pain soared across his mind as he bit his tongue to try and stay awake, and that cleared it up just a little. Wu Hao groaned and then sunk back into trying to struggle free of his body demanding that he sleep.

Master Ma's snore reached a certain pitch and he turned slightly, his flesh shifting underneath like a wave rippling across an ocean and meeting the distant shore of the stone he was sleeping on. His hand moved from where it had laid across his belly. He shook it - once, without seeming intent to do anything. And as if it'd never been there, the qi was suddenly gone. Power came trickling back into Wu Hao's limbs, his consciousness shaken out of that horrible grey fog that he'd nearly drowned in.

He could move again, could open his eyes again, could think again. He was breathing heavily, but only because he realized how close he'd just come to just... letting whatever master Ma wanted to happen, happen. Master Ma didn't react, though. Another monstrous snore ripped through the air. Nosepicker Shi bowed to the master, his own eyes fluttering, then began to quietly shuffle out of the courtyard, motioning for Wu Hao to follow.

Utterly confused Wu Hao followed him, sharing in his silence, and the beggar only spoke again after they'd left the master's presence.

"What was that?" he demanded, but Nosepicker Shi just gave him a small understanding smile without speaking, until they'd returned to the council of elders. He wasn't quite as smooth on his feet now, though - the qi had affected him as well, it seemed.

"That was the master," Nosepicker Shi said.

"He's approved of you. You will get the aid you desire." Even as he was led back through the warren of streets and finally deposited at a seedy-looking sort of inn in the slums, given reassurances that he'd be given the best of treatment, Wu Hao wondered what in the hell all of it meant. And if he'd just imagined that Master Ma's eyes had cracked open, just the tiniest bit.